Dear Winnow,
I have an inkling as to one of the matters, which was rudely interrupted by my damn stitches. But the other … I want to make sure I know precisely what is stealing your sleep.
Alas, enlighten me.
Your Kitt
P.S. Is it odd we’re next door to each other and still choosing to send letters through our wardrobes?
Dear Kitt,
I’m surprised you don’t recall in vivid detail the previous debate you once shared with me. I was supposed to settle it once I saw you.
I think your nan will be happy with my choice.
My answer is firmly this: Knight Errant.
—I.W.
P.S. Yes, it’s odd, but so much more efficient, wouldn’t you agree?
Dearest Winnow,
I’m flattered. It must be the pointy chin. But as to the other matter? It must be done in person.
Your Kitt
P.S. Agreed. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you at the moment …
My Dear Kitt,
You’ll have to wait to see me until tomorrow, when I plan to drag you out to the garden. No more cats and no more walks for the time being, however. Not until you heal. Then we can race to the hill, and I might beat you for once (but don’t go easy on me).
And you can officially ask me tomorrow.
Love,
Iris
P.S. If you see me too much, you’re bound to tire of my sad snail stories.
Dear Iris,
The garden it is.
Your Kitt
P.S. Impossible.
{36}
In the Garden
Iris wanted him to ask her in the garden. But there was something she needed to ask him first, and she waited to get him settled on a chair in the shade. Roman watched as she knelt in the dirt, pulling up weeds and watering row after row.
“I was thinking about something last night, Kitt,” she said.
“Oh? What’s that, Winnow?”
She glanced up at him. Patches of sunlight danced over his shoulders, over the striking features of his face. His dark hair almost looked blue. “I was thinking about how much time I’ve squandered in the past.”
Roman’s brow arched, but his eyes gleamed with interest. “You don’t strike me as one who would ‘squander’ anything.”
“I did a few days ago. When I came to see you in the infirmary. When I brought my letters to you.” She couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke, so she created a weed to pull. “The truth is I have my pride, and I feared my feelings. And so I left you with many things unsaid, and then I put what I thought was a cushion of days between us. Time to protect myself, to put all my armor on again. But then I realized that I’m not guaranteed anything. I should know this well by now, after being in the trenches. I’m not prom ised this evening, let alone tomorrow. A bomb could fall from the sky any moment, and I wouldn’t have had the chance to get to do this.”
Roman was quiet, soaking in her rambling confession. Gently, he asked, “And what is this you speak of?”
She felt the irresistible draw of his gaze, and she glanced up to meet it. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”
“Yes,” he said.
She wiped the dirt from her palms and stood, walking down the row to stand before him. Her hand dipped into her pocket, where a folded piece of paper waited.
“You see, Kitt,” she began. “I’m quite fond of Carver. His words carried me through some of the darkest moments of my life. He was a friend I desperately needed, someone who listened and encouraged me. I have never been so vulnerable with another person. I was falling in love with him. And yet my feelings became conflicted when you arrived at Avalon, because I realized that I halfway liked you.”
Roman was trying not to smile. And failing. “Is there a way to make up that difference?”
“There is, in fact.” She pulled the letter from her pocket. Bloodstained and dirty. “I know you as Carver. And I know you as Roman Kitt. I want to bring the two of you together, as you should be. And there’s only one way I know how to do that.”
She held the letter out to him.
He accepted it, his smile waning when he realized which letter this was. As he began to retrace his words.
“Are you asking me to—”
“Read your letter aloud to me?” she finished with a grin. “Yes, Kitt. I am.”
“But this letter…” He chuckled, raking his hand through his hair. “I say quite a few things in this particular letter.”
“You do, and I want to hear you say them to me.”
Roman stared at her, his eyes inscrutable. She suddenly felt the heat on her skin. A slight breeze toyed with her loose hair. And she thought, I’ve asked for too much. Of course he won’t do this for me.
“Very well,” he conceded. “But since we aren’t guaranteed tonight, what is my reward for reading this horribly dramatic letter to you?”
“Read it first, and then perhaps we’ll see.”
Roman glanced back down to his words, chewing on his lip.
“If it helps,” she began in a singsong voice, dropping to her knees to weed the next row. “I won’t look at you as you read. You can pretend I’m not even here.”
“Impossible, Iris.”
“How come, Kitt?”
“Because you’re highly distracting.”
“Then I won’t move.”
“So you’ll just kneel there in the dirt?”
“You’re stalling, aren’t you?” Iris said, looking at him again. His eyes were already on her, as if he had never looked away. Her pulse was beating like a drum, but she drew a deep breath and whispered, “Read to me, Roman.”
Whatever emotion was lurking within him—fear or worry or embarrassment—faded away. He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the letter. His lips had already parted to read the first word when he paused, glancing back up at her.
“You’re still looking at me, Iris.”
“Sorry.” She wasn’t the least bit sorry as she directed her attention to the soil, tugging a weed loose.
“All right, here we go,” Roman said. “Dear Iris. Your rival? Who is this bloke? If he’s competing with you, then he must be an utter fool. I have no doubt you will best him in every way. I’m inserting a personal note to say: I enjoyed writing that far more than I should have.”
“Yes, quite clever of you, Kitt,” said Iris. “I should have known right then and there it was you.”
“I actually thought you would realize it was me on the next line, the part where I say: Now for a confession: I’m not in Oath.”
“Need I remind you that the first time I tried to read this letter, you interrupted me because we were going to the front,” she explained. “The second time I tried to read this letter, you threw paper wads at my face.”
Roman laid his hand over his heart. “In my defense, Iris, I knew you were reading this here letter in the trenches and I thought it wasn’t the best of times for my blundering confession.”
“Understandable. Now, please continue.”
“Gods, where was I before I interrupted myself?”